


One Bed Blues

by eos_3



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Community: springkink, F/M, Fade to Black, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eos_3/pseuds/eos_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Edgar and Terra get to their room at the inn Locke has booked for them, they find out they're going to have to share the same bed. Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Bed Blues

**Author's Note:**

> For Springkink - Prompt: Final Fantasy VI; Edgar/Terra – One bed. “I can’t believe Locke didn’t get two beds! Now what?”

Tromping across the second floor of the massive inn they were staying in that night, Edgar glanced at each door looking for room six. Locke said he'd get them a nice room, but he was so exhausted it could be a pile of hay for all he cared. The only thing he wanted to do was take his boots off and get the pack full of equipment off his back.

“You passed it,” Terra said, standing by one of the doors, then opening it. The curtains lay open, the room bright with the light from the setting sun. As their eyes adjusted, one thing became immediately apparent.

“I can’t believe Locke didn’t get two beds! Now what?” Edgar wondered aloud. The room looked nice enough, with well-made, clean furnishings and fresh flowers in a vase on the table by the door. However, it wasn't what he'd asked for.

Terra shrugged, smiling over at him. “It's a big bed, we'll both fit.”

“As much as I'd like to take you up on your offer, Terra, I am still a gentleman. Hmm, maybe I can cut it in half with my chainsaw.” He dropped his pack near the door, the contents clanking together loudly.

“No, Edgar, no. You are not cutting it in half,” Terra said in alarm. She set down her own small rucksack next to the washstand. “How many times have we slept in the same tent together?”

Collapsing into the chair closest to him, he started working on the buckles of his boots. “A tent is just different. Ugh, I'm so tired. I think we must have killed at least five hundred monsters this week.”

“Four hundred and six at last count. I want to fall right into bed. Dibs on strangling Locke,” Terra grumbled. She leaned against the wall for balance and tugged her worn leather boots off.

“With his bandanna,” laughed Edgar. He got up and slipped his blue, gold-worked coat off of his shoulders and hung it heavily on one of the pegs near the door, glad to be rid of it. “Ugh, sucker marks. I hate things with tentacles,” he said, rubbing his wrists.

“Really? To hear it from Celes, you have your own tentacles,” she giggled. Then with no warning, so Edgar could at least turn his head, Terra undressed down to her underclothes.

Edgar tried to keep his voice unaffected. “What? She said that? I never touched her - I don't have a death wish.”

He watched her cautiously as she went over to the washstand to pour some water into the basin. She fished some soap and a bit of cloth from her bag and started washing the dirt and flecks of monster blood off of her face, then her neck... Edgar looked away, his face getting hot. He tried to decide if she was teasing him or not.

“Edgar,” Terra said, glancing back at him. She was wringing out the cloth, leaving it to hang on the rail on the side of the stand, and then went to empty the basin into the gutter outside the window.

“Hmm?” he'd taken the chair again, to ponder their predicament.

“Am I really so scary?”

“Er, no. When you're not wailing on something with magic, I think you're rather nice to be around.” He recognized the other question behind her words, but dodged it.

She frowned as she took her wavy green hair down, almost pouting, and started combing the tangles out with care. Terra was beautiful, there was no denying that. Beautiful and had just spelled out that she didn't mind him sleeping with her. He realized then that Locke had done this on purpose. Enraged at the set-up, Edgar vowed to beat him until all the “treasure” dropped out of his pockets, when they met up in Narshe again.

Terra sat down on the edge of the large wood-frame bed, dragging the quilt back. “Come on, let's go to sleep. We'll need all of our energy tomorrow.”

He waited until she was under the covers to finish undressing, and then went through his own evening ritual, debating whether to get the blanket from his bedroll and sleep on top of the quilt, or even sleep outside or in the barn. He could sleep on his bedroll on the floor, too. No, he decided, the King of Figaro was not sleeping on the floor, when there was a perfectly good bed with gorgeous woman in it, waiting for him.

Edgar closed the shutter to the window when he was done, streamers of ruddy sunlight peeking through the edges. He could see that Terra had her eyes closed, and he went around to the other side of the bed and sat down. Right, they were just sleeping, no big deal at all.

Pulling the covers back, he laid down and got himself settled facing away from Terra. If he couldn't see her, it was like she wasn't even there. Except that he could hear her breathe, and soon he became hyper-aware of every twitch and shift either of them made. He quickly became less and less comfortable instead of more.

Then Terra turned over, resting her hand softly on his back. Edgar learned the power of his self-control when he didn't yelp aloud, but his heart skipped a beat.

“Terra?” he whispered. Her palm moved across his shoulders, but she didn't say anything. He finally rolled to face her. “I'm starting to get the sense, that you aren't at all interested in sleeping.”

“I am, but I keep wanting to touch you,” she said.

Edgar gave up trying to be genteel. “How interesting. I want to touch you, too.” He pulled her closer, into an embrace and didn't hesitate to press his mouth to hers.

When sleep finally claimed her, Terra was curled warm against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Edgar held her tight, savoring the feeling of her bare skin against his.

His last thought as he drifted off, was that everything might have turned out well enough, but he still intended to beat the ever-living shit out of Locke Cole. 


End file.
